


Consenting Adults

by femmenerd



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Supernatural
Genre: Crossover, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-05-07
Updated: 2007-05-07
Packaged: 2018-01-18 06:59:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1419048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/femmenerd/pseuds/femmenerd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vague spoilers for everything except the Buffy S8 comic books. <s>I stole the whole “Sam is a Watcher” idea from my story <a href="http://femmenerd.livejournal.com/124836.html">Glimpses</a>, but this is not a Glimpses ‘verse fic; it just is...something.</s> And have since been vindicated by the whole "Men of Letters" business!</p><p> <i>“Is this fraternizing?”</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Consenting Adults

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on LJ [here].

Watchers, Buffy thinks, are supposed to wear glasses. Glasses and tweed and speak in British-guy accents.

Times they are a-changing though, because this new one is both glasses-free and has a kind of twang in his talk that must come from somewhere in the middle of the country. That _other_ country, the one that’s “hers” even though she’s only seen the California part of it.

She misses home like the phantom limb that it is.

*

“We moved around a lot,” Sam says, drinking deep from a big, frosty mug of adult beverage. “When I was a kid. Chasing demons with my Dad.”

“Oh,” Buffy says, and wonders where her quipy powers of speech went. Then she adds, “The monsters pretty much came to me.”

“Stupid monsters,” Sam says, and quirks a grin with _lots_ of dimples. More dimples than Watchers should be allotted, Buffy mentally adds to the list.

*

Half the new slayers have crushes on him. Buffy hears them whispering amongst themselves, and it reminds her that she’s sort of one of them, and also not. It makes her feel old.

Sam’s oblivious. To them and to her, she thinks. He mostly talks to Giles, and to Willow. About bookish stuff. Very serious.

That’s why it’s extra embarrassing when she has a fruity drink too many and blurts out, “You’re like the Indiana Jones of the new teachers. I’m the...” She frowns, blinks. _Big Sister._ “Have you seen that movie? The one where the girl writes ‘I love you’ on her eyelids for Harrison Ford?”

Sam scratches the back of his neck and blushes. “Yeah, my brother thinks he’s Han Solo,” he says, like that makes sense.

*

She kisses him first. Sam notices _that_ , and before she knows it, Buffy’s up against the wall with a whole lot of flannel-clad man between her legs. Flannel and denim. She’s still used to leather.

“Is this fraternizing?” she aks as he’s biting at her neck.

He laughs. “We’re both consenting adults.”

 _That we are_ , Buffy thinks.

That night, she “consents” to doggie style, missionary and slayer-on-top. Sam fucks like a gentleman, but _hard_.

Buffy feels like a grown-up as she takes it.

*

He doesn’t judge her for the vampires in her past.

“We’re not like regular people,” Sam says, and sighs a little.

But lying there in his arms, Buffy feels more like a “normal girl” than she ever has before.

*

For all the time she spent in the library in high school, Buffy really did _not_ spend enough of it making out. No, that was an activity reserved for graveyards and crypts.

“We could get caught!” she exclaims as Sam slips a hand beneath her skirt.

“Nobody’s here,” he answers, and pushes aside her panties. “Besides, _you’re_ kind of my boss.”

Buffy rolls her eyes, tries to play it cool. “No, I’m not.” Waits a beat. Grins. “But we could pretend...”

“Oh yeah? What are my orders?”

“Lick.”

*

Buffy asks Willow’s advice about strap-on shopping. It feels domestic–making preparations, purchasing surprises. Girlfriend-y.

Willow’s very thorough in her suggestions, tripping and skipping over her words. Happy to be useful. Clearly she’s done “research” on this topic. Buffy waves a hand in the air. “I just need something I can fuck with.”

“Buffy!”

Nope, they’re not little girls anymore.

*

Sam’s so _big_ beneath her. But, she knows, fragile. Because he’s human.

Buffy forgets that, sometimes. Because they’re just _people_ together. In spite of what they do.

For some reason, as she slides into him, Buffy thinks about the guns he has hidden, still. Even though otherwise Sam’s mostly conformed to Council protocol, he doesn’t let go of those. When she first found them, it scared her. She thought about blood, and Tara, and Willow’s broken heart.

Ghosts. Sam used them to fight _ghosts_ when he was just a kid even. The world is weird in so many ways, she’s lost count.

“More,” Sam instructs, and it breaks Buffy out of her space-out. She pushes in deeper, tries to imitate the rhythm he uses on her. At first, it feels awkward, looking down at this _thing_ between her girl-thighs, thrusting between his thicker ones.

He moans, her heart quickens, and Buffy finds her own pace.

*

“I can speak _pig_ latin,” Buffy jokes, and wheedles her way in between Sam and the ginormous book of incantations on the desk.

Sam lifts an eyebrow and sits back in his chair, watching her.

Buffy settles between his legs. Drops down. “Yeah, atch-way ee-may uck-say ooh-yay.”

“Can you translate that?”

“Sure,” she giggles, and unzips his fly.

*

Buffy doesn’t like flying. She prefers having her feet on the ground when they’re, um, on the ground. She also doesn’t like admitting to this, but when the plane takes off she grips Sam’s hand hard in hers.

He looks up from his book, and makes an affectionate noise. Pairs it with half a smile.

“You’re not going to start humming Metallica now, are you?” he asks, randomly.

“What!?” Buffy retorts, grumpy.

“Nothing,” he says, and kisses her forehead, soothing. Time passes, Buffy falls asleep, and the next thing she knows, the captain is announcing twenty minutes until Cleveland.

“We’re almost home,” Sam says.

“I’ve never been here before,” Buffy mumbles, sleepy.

Sam pets her head like he didn’t hear. “My brother’s gonna be here. You’re going to meet him.”

*

When Buffy goes for the cross-bow in the trunk of the muscle car she’s heard so much about, Sam’s brother reaches out. Sam stops him with a hand and smiles at her, proud.

“She knows what she’s doing,” he says.

Buffy hoists it up, tests the weight.

“I do,” she agrees.

*

 

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